


Man Hunt

by malchanceux



Series: Red Hawk [1]
Category: Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Evil!Tim, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malchanceux/pseuds/malchanceux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Tim works for the Reach, not Young Justice.</p><p> </p><p>Sort of fill for the Prompt: What if Tim Drake played for the wrong team, and was trained by the Reach?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Hunt

Explosions rattle the thick floor to ceiling windows, shaking them ominously as they threaten to crack and shatter. The moon pours in through the glass, smoke from the upper floors beginning to choke out its light and leaving a short, lithe figure in darker shadows. Tim works through them effortlessly.

It's Wayne Enterprises and he had expected a little more from their security, but as the small shadow weaves his way by office cubicles with his Package secured in his utility belt, he can't help but marvel at just how simple it had been. At least, in the long run.

Something— _small, metallic, sharp_ —whistles through the air and Tim drops to the floor, graceful and quick. A batarang embeds itself into a far wall as the intruder turns to face his opponent.

"Whew, almost missed you. Your pal upstairs is causing quite a commotion, so excuse me if you felt neglected."

He was supposed to be, the shadow thinks, but confrontation with a sidekick would not be completely unexpected. His partner was keeping the real threat—Batman—occupied. Evading or eliminating Nightwing would not set him too far behind schedule.

Tim slides smoothly into a fighting stance, blue eyes calculating behind their cowl, lips pressed thin in concentration.

"Straight to business, eh? No small talk, no boasting of evil plans? You wound me," the boy hero says, voice at ease with humor, but tense muscles portray hostility.

The shadow attacks first.

He returns the favor of the earlier batarang with several throwing knives aimed to kill. Tim's not the least bit surprised when Nightwing tucks and rolls with ease, bouncing up without missing a beat and lunging in for close quarter combat.

From there, they are locked in a dance of swift fists and strong kicks. Nightwing is better than Tim had first judged, but then again, he was trained by the Bat himself—the intruder berates himself for thinking so little of the sidekick. 

Tim lets his guard down—lets the hero get a hit at his stomach—and uses the distraction of a perceived victory land him a nerve strike at Nightwing's shoulder. The boy-hero gasps—surprised by the sudden numbness and lack of coordination from his arm—and quickly moves out of striking range to recover his bearings.

It is the shadows turn to lunge with fists ready.

He lands three strong hits before Nightwing gets the hang of defending with a sluggish arm, and another two before the boy-hero growls in frustration and delivers a firm kick to the jaw, sending Tim to the ground— _hard_.

For a moment he is stunned—cannot move, cannot breath—and in those few seconds the entire office floor floods with light. The silent alarms have been going off for some time now, but not on the floors the shadow had been sneaking through. The lights are obviously a security measure, meaning they know—not just Nightwing—that he is in Wayne Enterprises and that his partner is not alone.

He is running out of time.

"Holy— You're just a  _kid!_ _"_ Nightwing lowers his fists; shocked out of his offensive stance. "I thought you were small but— are you even out of elementary school? Who  _are_  you?"

The intruder spits out a mouth full of blood, pulls himself back to his feet; as steady as can be expected. 

"Red Hawk. Reach elite."

“‘Reach elite’?How old are you— _nine?_ ”

 _Thirteen_ , the boy thinks before he can stomp the irrelevant thought down. Tim cocks his head to the side, not sure what relevance the question holds, or if it has any. It does not sound mocking, but genuine if not a little over exaggerated. That only serves to confuse him more. _(It is frustrating, as well, to be called a child.)_ Hedoes not have to answer, however; enemies are one of the few people he can refuse.

“Listen, kid,” Nightwing’s voice is no longer playful, and his body language is all wrong for battle. The boy-hero leaves his guard almost completely down and his face morphs into… into _concern._ “I don’t know how you got mixed up in all this, but you—you don’t have to go through with whatever _this_ is. I’m with the League, we can help. We can protect you from the Reach if that’s what you need.”

“I do not require protection, nor do I understand the relevance that my _age_ holds,” Red Hawk says, a little bitter about the _‘kid’_ remark, perhaps. He shouldn’t be—shouldn’t let his emotions seep into his voice, his work. He has been trained better than this.

Tim produces a knuckle knife from his utility belt, watches Nightwing intently as he shifts into another offensive stance. A heavy silence settles between the two: Red Hawk uncertain of Nightwing’s sudden change in behavior, and the boy-hero waiting to see what Tim would do next.

“I don’t want to fight you, kid—”

A shadow, large and imposing, falls between the two, and Red Hawk pulls his cape around him—ducks beneath it. The floor to ceiling windows implode as Tim’s partner makes his entrance.

Nightwing hits the ground, glass and smoke spewing around him as he takes in the behemoth that is Black Beetle. The boy-hero seems surprised to see the villain, and Tim is just as stunned to see the state he is in.

His suit is slowly knitting itself together where something had ripped into it; left burns on the delicate flesh beneath. He is, if only marginally, panting—as though out of breath. Tim has never seen his partner in such a state.

“Red Hawk, it is time we take our leave.”

And Tim doesn’t get a chance to answer—an affirmative whether he wanted to go or not—as Black Beetle grabs him roughly around the waist and launches them both out the shattered windows. Tim hears Nightwing yelling—words he cannot make out over the wind rushing past his ears—as the black scarab activated his rocket boosters and flew them far from what Black must have perceived as a threat.

Batman was, apparently, more of a challenge than first reported. Something Tim would have to report back to his Master, the Ambassador. But at least their mission was a success.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while, and I've got a bit done. Not sure if I'll be able to finish it, so I'll post this much for now, and decide whether or not I want to post the rest of this probably-never-going-to-be-finished-WIP based on the responses I get.


End file.
